Page 53 of A Curse of Salt

The surge of flames subsided and Sebastien staggered back, his jaw taut and pale as he drew in a breath that rattled like steel over coals. He turned back to the monster with rigid shoulders, broadsword held loosely in his hand.

I gasped. The hem of his tattered cloak still smouldered, falling to shreds around him to reveal the raw, ravaged skin beneath. Blood oozed from his wounds as he limped towards the creature again.

‘Don’t—’ I cried, a moment too late.

I dove sideways as the monster’s next attack swept towards us. A spike-tipped tentacle whizzed past my ear, striking the King square in the chest and sweeping him from the Blood Rose’s deck.

I cowered back against the railing as his dark form was swallowed by the sea, leaving me alone among the ruins.

Swift and ferocious as the ocean, the monster beat down on the ship, shattering wood and spraying scalding ink across its surface. The masts splintered and I cowered back, surrounded by fire and the shrivelled remains of the pirates who’d been brave enough to face it.

No one left to save me now, I thought, trying to swallow the flood of panic in my chest as I gazed around the last of the crew, their shouts hoarse as they worked to shift flaming debris over the sides of the ship, dousing flames with buckets of bilge. They toiled tirelessly to salvage what they could, but it would mean nothing if the monster managed to bring us all asunder.

I peered up at the creature from my hiding place, watching it tear through the Blood Rose’s proud opulence. Thin, membranous skin stretched out from either side of its face, shielding the joint between its bony skull and great, craning neck.

There.

I’d seen what Golde was aiming for, knew what needed to be done. But if even she’d failed . . . A brain full of books and a little iron dagger – what chance did I have?

I scanned the destruction around me, the litany of bodies, Aron and Golde among them. My mind raced, struggling to stay afloat in the flood of doubt and terror that seized me. I was no warrior; the idea of hurting anything was like acid on my tongue, churning my stomach until I thought I might vomit. I tried to swallow my panic, knowing I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t afford to fail.

I waited with bated breath until the creature aimed its next blow. Then, ignoring the way my body baulked, I darted into the open, arm reaching out to snag the hilt of a discarded cutlass as I went. It slid awkwardly into my grasp, the metal cold and unfamiliar between my sweat-slippery fingers. Barely remembering to breathe, I raced for the opposite edge of the deck and launched myself over the rail, into the breeze.

For a split second, the world was nothing but wind, the air thick with coiling smoke. I soared through it like an arrow – realising my mistake just in time. My feet thudded against the slimy, ocean-slick skin of the creature’s craning neck, boots scrabbling for purchase, but the rose-hilted dagger was already in my hand.

I jolted forward, sinking the iron blade into the monster’s back. It shrieked, rearing. My stomach swooped as the surface beneath me dropped away for a moment, clinging as hard as I could with my sweaty palm to the iron grip of my dagger. It held firm, and when the creature rose up once more, I moved—

I had no time to steady myself, no time to think or breathe or prepare for what I was about to do. I plunged my sword into the monster’s rubbery flesh, right at the base of its neck.

With a sickening squelch, the blow pierced its throat, driven by more force than I’d known I possessed. Inky liquid flooded from the wound as I wrenched the blade free and scrambled back, tumbling down the creature’s bony snout.

It let out a sky-piercing shriek as I plummeted to the deck, the cold, hard wood jolting through me and knocking the air from my lungs. I crawled for cover, gasping raggedly as the monster keened another shrill, earth-shattering note. Its giant maw slammed on to the deck, snapping the yards from their masts as it collapsed, oozing blood that reeked of rust and rotting flesh. Then it toppled backwards and slipped into the sea with a final, dark ripple.

Dead.

I heaved myself to my feet, choking on embers and disbelief, my heart pounding louder than the fire, the chaos, the echo of screams. I’d killed it – killed. I wanted to collapse at the thought. Wanted to leave my shaking, bloodstained hands behind and curl up someplace warm and cry.

I wondered if the King had ever felt that way when he struck life from the world – so consumed with disgust and relief that his body no longer felt like his own. Or, more likely, if he felt nothing at all.

I blinked. Sebastien.

I picked myself up and raced to the starboard edge, adrenaline roaring through me once more. I couldn’t give up, not just yet. Not when he was out there, drifting like a shadow over the water, bleeding crimson to the waves. The blood, for once, his own.

Rain began to patter down, quelling the fires that raged on the main deck and sending spirals of smoke into the air. There was movement among the crew, the stirring of broken bones. Many, I knew, would never wake. The survivors watched me from the rubble, eyes wide. It would’ve been easy enough to winch a tender down to the water; they were in no position to stop me from rowing myself away, as far as I could, for as long as it took. I’d find Bane’s crew and let them steer me somewhere closer to home. No – not home. Someplace else. The capital, perhaps. A different world; a different king.

What are you waiting for? my mind asked, but my feet didn’t turn. They didn’t carry me to the waiting keel, didn’t point in the direction of my past.

I took a deep breath, facing the water. Sebastien was out there, dying. I could feel the diminishing ebb of his powers like the ocean’s own fading pulse. The downpour drummed steadily across the surface of the sea.

A voice broke through the din, its sharp edge grated with pain. ‘Ye’ll drown, lass.’

Golde limped closer, clutching her injured arm. A gaping wound marred the skin from her wrist to her elbow, bright crimson trickling through her fingertips.

I blinked, rain rolling from my lashes to my cheeks. I hadn’t realised what I was planning to do until I heard the disbelief in her voice. Only a fool would attempt it, I knew that much.

I grabbed hold of a thick length of rope still bound to a fallen shroud and gave it an experimental tug. ‘He’s dying out there.’

Golde flicked her gaze to the water. ‘If he’s s’posed to come back, he will,’ she said, staggering closer.

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